


surprise roommate

by foundmyhome



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cute, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundmyhome/pseuds/foundmyhome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble. Ghost/Living Person AU.  Emma Swan just wants to put away her stuff, move her furniture, and have a nice first evening in her brand new apartment.  But Killian Jones, resident dead guy ghost, has his own ideas.  Will Emma pack up her bags and get the hell out of dodge-- or accept her surprise roommate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	surprise roommate

“You can’t put the couch there.”

Emma looked around, frowning. The sound came from nowhere, the words filling the otherwise empty room. 

“Hello?” She wiped her forehead, the sweat gathering on the back of her hand. She’d been moving boxes and furnitures for hours, and the light from outside was starting to dim, the sun setting. Her electric wouldn’t be turned on until morning and Emma had got to get her couch set up before it was pitch black in her new apartment. With the bed being shipped tomorrow afternoon, being settled on the couch by nightfall was her only option.

If David was hanging around, watching her sweat her ass off without helping, she would murder him. “I swear to God, David, get your ass out here.”

There was a low chuckle, but it didn’t sound like her older foster brother’s voice. Panic began to grow in her belly, her throat clenching at the idea that there was someone else in the apartment with her. She had, after all, just moved in that day; and sure, all the reviews about the neighborhood were good, but every place had its bad guys and of course this place’s bad guys would find her on her first night.

“Sorry to disappoint, love,” the voice was pretty, with a soft lilt and an accent that she couldn’t quite place. But it was definitely not David.

She reached blindly around her, her eyes flickering across the room to find the intruder. Her fingers clenched around a hammer, and she took a spare moment to be thankful Mary Margaret had insisted she put all of the pictures and decorations up that day.

“Might as well come out now,” Emma said, trying to make her voice as low and dangerous as she wanted it to sound; she had a feeling she missed the mark. Her grip tightened on the hammer when she saw the curtains billow.

Suddenly, where before there was no one, a man stood. “As you wish, milady.” The man bowed dramatically, pausing at the bottom of the bow to wink at her.

For an intruder, Emma had to admit he was cute as hell.

Dressed head to toe in period clothing, dark eyeliner coating his ridiculously blue eyes, and tousled, dark hair, the guy seemed to step out of Emma’s dreams.

He took a step closer to her. Suddenly, Emma remembered that this guy wasn’t some hottie she met at the bar; this was a stranger, in her house, probably here to kill her, and then dress her body up in wench clothing.

Like hell, Emma thought, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. He continued to walk towards her, a cocky grin on her face, and Emma might be overreacting because she and David had just watched a six hour Criminal Minds marathon the other day, but Emma raised the hammer and slammed it against the guy’s skull.

Or, at least, she would have. “What the hell?”

The hammer slid through the man’s body, his image flickering for a moment. The smile slid off his face. Shaking, she raised the hammer again and swung it; it slid clear through his neck.

Bending closer to her, his lips only inches away from her ear, the man murmured: “You know, love, if I was corporeal, that really would’ve hurt.”

\--

 

“You’re a ghost?”

Emma was sitting on her couch, the ghost- Killian Jones, at your service-- standing across from her. She had a pillow on her lap, clutching it close to her chest, and a cup of juice-- well, one third juice, two thirds vodka--in her hand.

“That I am.” He was leaning against the wall, smirking. She wasn’t sure how he was holding himself up if she hadn’t been able to hit him, but she also wasn’t sure that the semantics of the corporealness of the ghost haunting her new apartment really mattered.

“I don’t believe you.” Lie. Of course she did. She saw it with her own eyes.

“Try hitting me with that hammer of yours again, Swan,” he rolled his eyes.

Emma didn’t respond. Her head hurt. She took a gulp from the drink in her hand.

“Can you go away?”

Killian dropped to the ground, sitting cross legged. He grabbed the spare pillow, placing it in his lap like she had hers. Frowning, he shifted until he seemed to reach a comfortable position. “This is my apartment.”

Emma glared at him. “No. It’s mine. And I don’t want a roommate.”

The ghost, damn him, had the audacity to laugh. “Too bad. I’m stuck here.”

“Then I’ll move out.”

His face fell, his lips tugging down towards the bottom of his face. “Aye, love. Most do.”

Emma’s shoulders fell, her body deflating. All the adrenaline from earlier had tired her. Her threat was an empty one. “Most?”

Killian perked up, a devious smirk on his face. “Well, I don’t usually show myself.”

Emma couldn’t help it when her lips twitched up, a smile tugging at them. “Why not?”

He leaned closer to her, his blue eyes twinkling. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “It’s more fun to scare them.”

The laugh bubbled out of her chest before she could stop it. He laughed with her, his head thrown back and his throat exposed. Emma was a little weirded out by how cute she found the dead guy.

“Why did you talk to me?”

The ghost jumped up, walking back and forth. The farther he got, the less Emma could see him; the sun had set awhile ago, and the only light in the room came from a little streetlamp outside.

Killian flickered his wrist, impatiently, and the lights overhead came on. Emma smiled.

“You were putting the couch in a bad position,” he told her.

Emma glanced down at the couch beneath her, frowning. “I like it against the wall.”

“The TV will have to go there, then,” he gestured towards the opposing wall, “and then the light from the sun will give it a glare every day. Bloody obnoxious.”

Emma shrugged. “I’m not home during the day.”

Killian threw himself on the couch, looking up at her with wide eyes, his lashes fluttering. “But I will be.”

Emma stared at him, incredulously. Was the ghost flirting with her? His expression was open, his smile soft. Emma could barely believe she had gotten herself into this situation. A ghost. Probably the only ghost in the entire city and she had to rent his apartment. And, on top of being a dead, non corporeal spirit, he had to be a ghost with an attitude and flirting problem.

But for all Emma should be running like hell, she felt strangely at ease. She had always prided herself on being able to detect lies, to tell when someone was trying to hurt or trick her. And even though this had to be the weirdest situation she had ever been in, she didn’t think he would hurt her. For whatever reason, Emma trusted him. 

“I’ll move the couch,” she said.

Killian grinned. “So you’re not moving out?”

Emma’s eyes widened, her cheeks heating. “Well, it’s rent controlled.”

“You like me,” he teased, leaning closer to her. “You like the dead guy.”

Emma rolled her eyes, swatting at his shoulder. She was surprised when the hit landed. “I do not. You’re like a guard dog, but without the pet.”

He grinned, his tongue flickering out to wet his bottom lip again. “Sweetheart, you can pet me whenever you like.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you are the one who couldn’t handle it,” he grinned.

Emma felt her throat contrast, her heart hammering in her chest. Turning away from him, she took another large gulp from her drink.

Damn it. 

How was she supposed to explain to Mary Margaret her crush on the ghost in her apartment?


End file.
